


Episode IV: 'Til The End of the Galaxy

by Miss_Aphi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Language!, M/M, Multi, OT3, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Post-Age of Ultron but not compliant, Pre-OT3, Scruffy-Looking Nerf Herders, Sorry Barton Family Tree, Sorry Not Sorry, Stucky - Freeform, Tony Stark wants to be Boba Fett damn it!, WinterShieldShock - Freeform, Women Being Awesome, abandoned, beardy!steve, hobosassin!Bucky, lovers in a dangerous time, otp, star wars: the old republic - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4051891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Aphi/pseuds/Miss_Aphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Republic and the Empire have been at odds for generations.  But in the middle of it all is a gray area, where hired hands can make a pretty penny.  Hired hands like the smuggler Darcy Lewis.</p><p>[ABANDONED.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Screen Crawl

**Author's Note:**

> I’m playing fast and loose with the canon here (obviously). I can’t say anymore or I’ll spoil it!! Just trust me. In the Star Wars universe, it takes place many years prior to A New Hope. I’ve borrowed some inspiration from the current storyline going on in the MMO, Star Wars: The Old Republic. (As of June 2015)
> 
> Oh, and this is the first fanfic I’ve ever written, but it just pounced on me today while I was driving home from work, so I had to run with it.
> 
> I suppose you can picture the "prologue" as the screen crawl in one of the movies. I intend to have the first chapter up sometime today.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Episode IV**

**‘TIL THE END OF THE GALAXY**

 

 

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

 

 

The GALACTIC EMPIRE has been without The Emperor for decades.  The power vacuum created has led to more in-fighting in the Sith Dark Council than ever before.  Darths and Lords across the Galaxy have begun to hire Mandalorians, snipers, and smugglers from all walks of life in order to get a leg-up on their competition.

 

The JEDI ENCLAVE faces its own inner turmoil.  Jedi have become heavy-handed in some dealings, and stand-offish in the next.  The REPUBLIC has started to question just where the Jedi’s loyalties lie.

 

Amidst all this, groups of Mandalorians and smugglers are cleaning up, working either side of the great divide to line their pockets and make their fortunes.  The entire Galaxy has become bloated with chaos and death.

 

 

But a bigger threat looms in the darkness of Yavin 4, a habitable moon in the Outer Rim… and it is feeding…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor edit: I changed the "episode number" for this story, as I had some ideas for "prequels".


	2. Assault On Tython

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything should be rainbows and butterflies in a first meeting, right? WRONG!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have fun meeting the first half of the "cast"! The majority of the rest of the crew will be introduced in the second chapter.

**Tython Space Port**

 

To say the gleaming armour before her was ostentatious was a bit of an understatement.  Lewis had seen Mandalorians before, but she was very, very good at keeping them as far-the-fuck-away as was possible.  Up until this point, she’d been good at it, too.  But such good things come to an end, which was why her knees were dropped hard into the metal flooring outside of her ship, with her hands folded on the back of her head.

“Stars, easy on the knees!  I don’t have freakin’ padding like you lot do,” Lewis complained, looking up to the Mandalorian in front of her.  She was, after all, a soft human with brown hair, big blue eyes, and wearing thin layers of leather and cotton.  The flashy Mandalorian, on the other hand, was covered from helmet to shit-kicking-boot in bright red and gleaming gold.  The panels of painted beskar glinted in the lights of the hangar with a menace that made her skin itch.  The emotionless helmet that peered down at her tilted a bit to the side, and a low, rumbling chuckle crackled through the voice box.  Words came out of the helmet then, but she had no freaking idea what they meant.  Mando’a, she supposed, though she knew the tone was mocking.

It wasn’t a language that was posted anywhere on the holonet for her to learn, and the Mandalorian culture seemed to like it that way.  They were an insular community with their own sets of values different from the Empire and the Republic.  They went where the money was good, with no real loyalties to either side.  Their leader, she supposed, had brokered an agreement with the Empire, but that didn’t stop them from going where the credits were.  Highest bidder, and all that.  And to say they were violent was a bit of an understatement.  Efficiently violent, however, not torturous, which she supposed was a good thing.  They had, after all, swarmed her vessel upon landing on Tython, and put her and her crew mates onto the ground in seconds flat.

Okay, so, **swarm** was a bit of an overstatement.

There were three of them.  The largest of the three was prowling around inside her ship (an old merchant ship converted to _look_ more like a clunker than it actually was) for the cargo that had been safely stowed away en route to Republic space.  His armour was nowhere near as flamboyant as Red-And-Gold in front of her.  The Big One’s armour was understated, done in dark blues and reds, with a jagged-looking white skull painted across the chest piece.  The third of their merry band of invaders was surprisingly downplayed.  Bits of beskar were completely free of paint, the silvery colour bright around where a matted black had been painted over other parts.  The Newbie, she decided, since his gear looked newer and wasn’t as personalized as the other two’s were.

Lewis chanced a brief glance to her left, where two other women were down on their knees, hands on their heads.  The willowy, pale blue Twi’lek beside her, Foster, had a tight expression on her face, betraying her fear, but the slow grind of her teeth told Lewis that she was about as pissed as she was.  The end of her left head-tentacle was twitching faintly where it hung down her back.

Further down their line-up was Romanoff, who looked utterly placid in the face of the giant blaster rifle that was bobbing along in front of them to keep them compliant.  Her slightly curled, bright red hair was a shocking juxtaposition against the light green flesh of the Mirialan, but it suited her anyway.

 _Any time you wanna join the party, Romanoff,_ Lewis thought with a faint sigh at the red head.  A very faint smirk twitched at the corner of Romanoff’s lips, as if the stray thought had been said aloud, but it disappeared a moment later.  Heavy footfalls behind them heralded the return of The Big One.  That, coupled with the surprisingly painful grip of The Big One’s metal-covered fist over her shoulder, hauling her up, well, welcome back, asshole.

“Ow,” Lewis wheezed as she was turned around sharply to stare into the equally vacant T-visor of The Big One.  She was, however, pretty sure that whoever was behind the mask was scowling at her.

“Where is it?”  He inquired, in Basic, his deep voice somewhat tinny through the voice transmitter in his helmet.  Lewis’ expression rounded faintly, lips parting in confusion.  Of course she knew where ‘it’ was, but she was a highly paid Transportation Expert, capital letters required, for a reason.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.  We’re just on our way to the Jedi Enclave with supplies,” Lewis pointed out, which, well, she was sure the guy in the tin can was glaring at her **harder** now.  He gave her shoulder a shake that made her whole body wobble.  So **that’s** what having your eyes rattle around in your head felt like.  Not pleasant!

“Don’t play dumb, girl, I know you have it somewhere.  We’ve been following you since you made the trade on Nar Shaddaa,” The Big One snarled at her, as if it were a beast behind that faceplate.  Shit.  They’d been made that fast?  His head tipped faintly, as if he was allowing his eyes to rove over her in search of the item in question.  How the hell did Mandalorians get clearance to land on Tython in the first place?!

“Hey!  If you’re gonna undress me with your eyes, at least buy me dinner first!”  Lewis snapped, both hands moving to free her from the grip.  It was a futile effort, simply because of painted metal that she couldn’t quite get a grip on in order to draw him free.  And he was strong, clearly, beneath all of said painted metal.  He looked about ready to say something more but an explosion seemed to rock the whole hangar bay, causing Lewis to stumble forward into the Mandalorian.  All heads tipped upwards towards the blue skies… which were now filled with Imperial vessels.  But the chaos was right here beside them now.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Romanoff was on her feet in a flash, but gone a moment later, disappearing into thin air.  The surprise from The Big One caused him to briefly loosen his grip, giving Lewis the element she needed.  Stepping into him, she shoved her foot behind his own and shoved his chest with all her might.  It was a weak-ass move, but the bigger they were, the harder they fell, right?  And down he went, crashing onto his back with a satisfying scrape of metal-on-metal, and a few (what she presumed were) choice curses in his mother tongue aimed in her direction.

Romanoff flicked back into existence behind Red-And-Gold, seeming to peel herself out of thin air, and she was on his back, legs wrapped around the front of his neck as she grabbed at latches that kept his helmet in place.  He flailed considerably, trying to aim his blaster rifle upwards to get a shot off, but she twisted her legs in such ways as to keep his elbows locked down and unable to bend.  Red-And-Gold’s helmet hit the ground with a twang, revealing a pasty human male with dark hair and a neatly trimmed goatee.  Romanoff jumped free of him.  Her hand slid into the loose jacket she was wearing to produce what looked to be a krayt dragon fang, though with more mechanical parts on the end of it.  With a flick of her thumb, a beam of bright red energy erupted from the fang.  More Mando’a cursing filled the air, as Red-And-Gold began to fire on Romanoff, who easily danced and parried around the shots, deflecting them back or off into the durasteel bulkheads around them.

“Don’t you hit my ship, Nat!”  Lewis shouted in warning, as she jumped away from The Big One.  She and Foster made for The Newbie, but he was a fast little shit, jumping back a considerable distance with the help of his jetpack, twin blasters out and at the ready.  The shrill sound of blaster fire echoed through the hangar as Lewis and Foster dove for cover, drawing their own blaster pistols in the process.  Cocky Mandalorians never thought to disarm them.  The hangar rumbled again as another explosion hit, a little closer this time.  Shit.  How the hell did the Empire get into Republic space without sending off a multitude of alarms and an immediate strike team?!  She was beginning to wonder why she was asking herself these questions, when she clearly didn’t have any answers in her brain for them.  This was no time for existential questions!

She and Foster peeked around the crates that were providing coverage.  The Big One was already on his feet and trying to close in on the crates, as was The Newbie.  A few well-placed shots from them forced the two men to decide a direct assault was going to get them dead.  Good choice.

Alarms around them finally began to sound, just as another explosion hit the far left wall of the hangar they were in.  All six of them briefly froze in place to survey the damage around them.  Overhead, short-range Republic fighters were finally entering the fray, but there was no telling if they’d get the bigger ships into position before the dreadnaughts overhead started laying fire down on the surface.

“We have to get outta here!”  Foster shouted, as if that would prompt the Mandalorians into letting them go.  Hey, wishful thinking, right?  Overhead, the whine of the short-range engines comes a little too close for comfort, before another explosion causes the back wall of the hangar bay to implode, spraying bits of metal and cement into the hangar space.  It was an immediate, wide-eyed look from Lewis to The Big One and The Newbie, between Romanoff and Red-And-Gold, to get everybody hoofing it into the lowered ramp of her ship.  For the time being, weapons are holstered as the six of them spread out into the ship, manning turrets and running pre-flight diagnostics.  Lewis takes the helm with Foster on her right.

“Shit… shit-fuck, gimmie a destination, Jane, anywhere!”  Darcy scrambled as the freighter rumbles upwards, narrowly avoiding more debris flying in the direction.  Stars, they’d been standing right there…

“Ilum!  Head for Ilum.  There’s not a whole lot of traffic that way!”  Foster supplied after a few moments of racking her brain for a solution.  The Twi’lek’s violet eyes were already moving ahead of her fingers as she tapped in the destination to plot a course.  Lewis got the ship in the air, grimacing as the shields started taking fire already.  But they were returning fire, too, quick rapid successions of green ion firing at whatever ship came at them.  Republic, Imperial, it didn’t matter, because they were being fired on by **both** sides.  There was more Mando’a swearing as The Big One swept into the cabin to man the console behind them.  There was no communication, really, just six people falling into the line of ‘hey, let’s not die right now’.

It took some doing, in the form of blowing up several other vessels and quick maneuvering, but the clunky-looking vessel was soon breaching orbit, skirting high over a looming dreadnaught before jumping to light speed.  The white dots in the inky depths around them streaked into lines before everything swirled round and round in iridescent blue.  Darcy sagged back into the captain’s seat with a muttered curse.

“We are not being pursued,” Nat’s voice announced over the comm system in the cockpit.  A small relief.  One that was only brief, as she realized that there were three Mandalorians on her ship that had, until five minutes ago, been trying to kill her and her team.  Her palm itched for her blaster as she turned just slightly to eye The Big One behind her… who was looking at her closely.  Glaring again behind the mask, probably.

“Look, man…” Darcy started with a wince, fingers drumming over her blaster.  Beside her, Jane was doing the exact same.  The Big One immediately pointed a finger at her to get her to shut it, but he didn’t reach for a weapon so… that was a plus? Despite her desire to keep on talking, with a bit more angry inflection, she pursed her lips together and waited.

“Whatever the hell just happened, we need to figure that out first.  Afterwards, we’ll worry about the data chip and what it contains,” The Big One stated, his tone, even through the voice emitter, brokering no argument.  Lewis scowled at him.

“Hey, pal, this is **my** ship.  Don’t you try going about and giving **me** orders, you hear me?”  She snapped right back, despite the faint look of disbelief she got from Jane.  Briefly, the Mandalorian’s head tipped to the side, seeming to study the captain in front of him.  Eventually, Darcy got a brief nod of understanding in reply.  She was under no delusions that this guy could probably snap her neck with one hand and no grunting at all.

“What do you suggest then?”  The Big One inquired, indulgently.  Smug bastard.

“Well, don’t you find it at all odd that as soon as we arrive, so does the Imperial navy?  I mean… coincidences and all, but that’s a pretty big coincidence considering…” Darcy trailed off a bit with a frown, eyeballing the man in full-body armour as if she would discover something new about him.  He was probably damned hideous under all that Mandalorian Iron.  “Shit.  Fine,” she huffed and stood up, leaving Foster on the controls.  With little preamble, she urged The Big One to his feet and led him to the briefing room down the corridor from the cockpit.  Nat was there, already, managing to have moved The Newbie and Red-And-Gold into the room, as well.  The latter was sprawled in a chair, making himself quite at home, and fiddling with the helmet that Natasha had ripped off his head earlier.  Newbie had taken up a post with his back in the far corner of the room.  With three bulky Mandalorians, a former Sith Assassin, and li'l ol' her in the room, it was starting to feel pretty damned small, even if there were enough chairs for all six of them to take a seat if need be.

Lewis hesitated again, before drawing the data chip out from between the heavy cleft of her breasts. Red-And-Gold snorted a laugh.  With a scowl, Lewis then slid into the holotransmitter in the middle of the conference table.  After only a few milliseconds, blue light shone up above the transmitter, showing an image of Korriban, the planet that housed the Sith Academy.  It then switched off, and began to expose several lines of numbers, all of which were easily linked to planetary defense access codes.  She chewed at her bottom lip, but didn’t look at anyone around her.  The information spoke for itself.

“This… doesn’t make sense at all.  One, how did your contact get this information?  He was just a gutter-rat junkie looking for his next line of spice.  And two, does it seem pretty damned convenient to anyone else that the Empire showed up, probably using the same sort of information, as soon as we got here?”  Red-And-Gold pointed out, putting to voice what everyone else was thinking. 

“Stark…” The Big One sighed, to which ‘Stark’ scowled and gestured impatiently at the read-outs.

“Come on, Rogers!  Even I see it from all the way over here,” the Newbie sighed, indulging his showier companion.  Rogers held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Believe me, I see it.  I’m still working on understanding it.  You.  Explain,” he said, turning that empty sight on Darcy again.

“Okay, yeah, one?  Name’s Darcy Lewis.  Not ‘you’, or ‘girl’, thank you muchly.  Two, we were hired to pick up the information by Colonel Rian Darok, and transport it to Tython.  End of.  It wasn’t in the job description to know **what** we were transporting, just that we were moving it from Point A to Point B,” Darcy huffed, hands resting on the full curves of her hips.  The Newbie shifted faintly as if to say something.

“Rhodey, don’t,” Rogers instructed curtly, but his attention didn’t move away from Lewis.  She was fidgeting, but that seemed to be her natural reaction to everything. Too much wired-up energy in one spite-fire shell.  In another life, he might have let her see what was under the beskar.  Still, Rogers came to a decision apparently, because his stance loosened into a parade rest.

“If it was meant to get into Republic hands… then why were we hired by the Republic to retrieve it from you?”

 

~ - * - ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Le gasp!* Hope you enjoyed this. I'm off tomorrow, so I'm probably going to cram in another chapter. Maybe two, just for kicks.
> 
> All mistakes are mine, as I don't have a beta and it's past 4am where I live. So sue me. 
> 
> Minor edit to where Darcy hid the data chip because I thought of something better.
> 
> All characters, lore, and locations, belong to their respective owners.


	3. The Korriban Incursion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was no wonder the Sith liked it so damned much. It was as depressing as their galactic views. But, he supposed, that was what happened when an entire organization based themselves on a planet that was, quite literally, a giant tomb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I changed my mind, because the cast is so huge, there will be more introductions further on down the line rather than cramming everybody else into this one. *shame* I'm such a nerd...

**The Sith Academy, Korriban**

For all intents and purposes, Korriban was a dust ball.  A big, fat, red dust ball smack-dab in the middle of Imperial space.  Bucky couldn’t recall a time in his life where it _hadn’t_ been a dust ball.  It was no wonder the Sith liked it so damned much.  It was as depressing as their galactic views.  But, he supposed, that was what happened when an entire organization based themselves on a planet that was, quite literally, a giant tomb.

The Sith, Bucky had discovered, were all about relics of the past.  Hundreds of thousands of those enslaved by the Sith Empire were forced to toil away in the red dirt, uncovering every piece of fucking potshard the planet had to offer up until their fingers bled and their bodies gave out in protest.  To him, it seemed like some vapid attempt to make them feel more validated.  It was an opinion he must have voiced out loud, because the man beside him let out a faint, choking laugh around his canteen.  Bucky tossed Clint a smirk, taking in the man’s silhouette against the perpetual sunset that put everything into a haze of red.  His nose was crooked from being broken too many times, but his eyes were alit with amusement that was betrayed on his expression.

He and Barton had been stationed on Korriban for _weeks_.  Oh sure, a galactic standard week didn’t seem all that long, but when your only company was a sassy sniper, Sith with delusions of grandeur, and more sand in your drawers than you thought possible, weeks were starting to feel like an eternity.  But, such was life, and that’s where they were instructed to hang out until they were relieved.   There had been murmurings in the Intelligence channels for weeks about a possible attempt on Korriban.  It was fucking ridiculous.  It was called the seat of the Empire for a reason.  The Republic would have to pass by several other Imperial planets, as well as the damned Imperial Fleet!

“This is ridiculous,” Bucky reiterated from behind the black rebreather that covered his nose and mouth, for probably the millionth time in as many days.  Metallic fingers of his left hand clicked and clacked against the barrel of the long-range sniper rifle.  He and Barton had found a nest on top of the Sith Academy, which gave them full-view of the main hub on Korriban.  The old building – again, a glorified tomb – was a testament to the strength and power of the Dark Side of the Force.  He guessed?  That sounded like something they would say, wasn’t it?  Stars, he was starting to think in terms of the Sith, that… that was just not _fair_. 

“Oh, come on, man, would you rather be here sitting with your old pal or out on Tatooine, sweating your balls off, in the thick of battle with Sand People and Pubs?”  Clint chastised with that same, lazy grin, as his deft fingers pulled apart and put together the bowcaster in his lap.  For as many times as Bucky had complained of the ridiculousness of this mission, Clint had unassembled and reassembled the weapon in his lap.  It seemed to be turning into a game.

“Yes.  At least there’d be something to _do_ out there,” Bucky snarked right back.

~ - * - ~

**Dark Council Chambers, Korriban**

“This Council is not in the habit of going after wayward Jedi, these ‘Gray Jedi’, simply for the fun of it, brother,” Lord Wanda sighed wearily as she peered at her compatriots.  If they could be called that.  That was the problem with Sith.  This Council, in reality, were the fiercest, and deadliest, but it was a battle that was constantly fought.  It was how three of the six of them ended up in this relatively sterile room, where six chairs sat upon raised daises.

The head of their Council, Lord Thor, cut an imposing figure in his seat at the top of the room, blonde hair braided tightly down his back, the ends lost in the rumple of his blood red cloak.  Despite being a mere human, he had mounted his way to the top of the Council in what was surely a bout of wartime genius.  He had no interest in subterfuge and politics.  His might and absolute refusal to just _die_ was what led him to the top Council seat.  He was not without the scars of battle, however.  The left side of his face was covered in a smattering of scar tissue that made the left eye squint.  The scarring caused the scruff on his jaw to grow in strange patterns when it was short, but he kept it longer to be able to smooth it out.

To his left sat Lord Wanda, lightly clothed in black and red robes that disguised her feminine frame.  Her red flesh stood out against it, as only a Pure Blood’s should.  Her soft, ruby-coloured skin fussed absently at one of the panels of her robes, merely for something to do with her hands as opposed to letting them wander and create mischief of their own accord.  The sharp ridges of her face, that highlighted her jaw and brow, twitched as she looked across the chamber at her twin brother.  Lord Pietro was slouched easily into his chair and looking miserable about the entire situation.  His silvery eyes matched his silvery hair, and he quirked a smirk in her direction to hide his displeasure.  It didn’t work.

The Gray Jedi they were referring to had become a bit of a thorn in the side of the Empire but he was like a ghost, slipping in and around Imperial blockades as if they were gaps the size of canyons.  He fought, and he killed, but his movements through blockades were always followed by a resurgence of good health in the people being blocked, or a riot, or plague suppression.  The worst part was that the Jedi just… didn’t have a description.  Or if he did, and he was male at the least, there were conflicting reports.  One would describe him as a human with lightly tanned skin, brown but graying hair, and a somewhat hunched posture.  Another would call him a Pure Blood like her, with dark blue eyes, and standing at least a foot taller than the previous description.

It was monumentally distracting, and infuriating, but the Empire was stretched too thin at the moment to send a strike team out to deal with a shapeshifting Jedi.  The Empire had finally broken codes to get inside Republic defenses, and the majority of the Fleet was heading to Tython at this very moment to hopefully put an end to the Jedi uprising once and for all.

Before further statements could be made, the Council doors burst open.  Two men in tactical gear stood before them, breathing hard through the rebreathers they were wearing.  They were armed and dangerous, but none of the three Sith currently in session seemed at all phased by the threat they posed.  After the initial flurry of movement and sound of the doors crashing open, more sounds began to filter in.  Distantly, there was shouting, blaster fire, the howl of ion cannons… explosions.  Thor was up in a moment, stalking towards the two snipers who, much to her developing respect, stood their ground under the harsh, blue-eyed scrutiny.

“We’ve been instructed to move the remains of Council to a secure location,” the short one, Barton, reported, his voice firm and brokering no argument as he looked straight up at the six-foot-four Sith Lord looming before them.  The other, Barnes, shifted around Thor to start moving the twin Pure Bloods out.  “We have a ship waiting behind the Academy grounds for extraction, and coordinates that we need to reach.  Please follow me,” Barton continued, turning on his heel and heading back into the corridors.  Thor seemed to consider crushing the sniper’s throat with a twist of his fingers in the air, but thought better of it.  He, instead, waited for Barnes to usher Wanda and Pietro down the corridor before falling in behind them, with Barnes bringing up the rear.

The fighting had not yet reached the inner sanctum of the Academy, so their exit through the back corridors was predominantly unhindered.  The harsh light of the Korriban sun made Wanda squint as her brother grasped her arm and urged her towards an awaiting vessel.  It was not a standard Imperial vessel, but one that looked like it was cobbled together from various other ships, before being painted in dark red and gold.  At the bottom of the ramp stood a female Mandalorian, dressed in the typical uniform of her trade.  Her armour matched her ship, gleaming a menacing red with the smallest hints of gold.  Wanda’s mind sought out hers instinctively, but was met with great resistance.  The Mandalorian female clutched the blaster pistol in her hand a little tighter as the three Siths and two snipers climbed aboard.  She followed swiftly, locking them in and heading for the cockpit without a word spoken.  The barest nod was traded between her and the snipers.

“Report, Agent Barton,” Thor finally rumbled as the ship hummed and lifted from the dusty earth.  The five were seated in a wide common room now, which seemed far lusher than the exterior of the ship might have implied.  A rounded couch sat against one wall around a holochess table.  The wall opposite looked more like work room, covered in bits of unprocessed Mandalorian Iron and wiring.  Barnes had been the one to find the liquor store, and had poured them all a finger or two of a sweet-smelling, clear liquid that packed more of a wallop than any of them realized.

“Republic vessels breached Korriban airspace fifteen minutes before we rendezvoused with you in the Council Chambers.  They were quick and precise, and there was no movement or chatter from the Imperial Fleet whatsoever.  Our planetary alarm systems didn’t even engage until about ten minutes into the fight.  By then, half of our planet-side ships had already been bombed out, and we were instructed to get you off world,” Barton easily replied before tentatively sipping the clear liquid.  Barnes was already on his second glass.

“And where are we headed now?” Pietro inquired, his entire body twitching as he moved around the room.  No, movement was not the way to explain it.  He was pulling himself through the room, standing one spot and then appearing in another.  He appeared to be inspecting everything in the room, picking things up on one side and putting them down on the other with only the scantest of milliseconds between each action. From the last spot he shifted from, there was a small swirl of purple left on the ground that only a Force user might be able to see.

“I’d put all that back if I were you.  It may look like a mess already, but it was all in the place it was supposed to be in,” the female Mandalorian strolled into the room, surprisingly with relative quiet despite the soft whirring and movement of the hydraulics from her full-body armour.  She pulled off her helmet, bits of strawberry-blonde hair tumbling free from her bun.  Pietro looked at her as if she were crazy for thinking to scold a Dark Lord, but the woman continued to stare quietly, her expression as unreadable as her helmet had been, until Pietro began to do as he was told.  Satisfied, the armoured woman looked to the others in assembly, though her gaze passed over Barnes a little longer than just a cursory glance.

“We’re headed to Ilum.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Bucky, I love your snarky sass. 
> 
> All characters, locations, and events belong to their respective owners... which I suppose is Disney now since they own all the things.


	4. Between Black & White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We were never sent to kill you. If that was the case, you’d be dead already."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one took a little longer to get out, because it felt like everybody that I subscribe to posted in the last two days, and I just couldn't help myself but to read what they put out! So, here's to you, my awesome subbies. <3

**Eastern Ice Shelf, Ilum**

Finding a place to land a vessel on the planet was, in a word, difficult.  Between the ice crags and crumbling plateaus, there were very few places – _particularly places that weren’t presently occupied by Imperial or Republic forces_ – in fact, that gave the smuggler’s vessel a sturdy place to set down.  Upon hearing they would need to find a shelf that would accommodate _two_ such vessels, well, these Mandalorians were asking for damned miracles.  And where the hell was the other ship coming from?

“Our associate,” The Big One – _Steve Rogers, Darcy reminded herself_ – pointed out, indicating that she had been muttering out loud while flying lower in Ilum’s atmosphere than she should be.

“Oh,” Lewis replied dryly, as Rogers sat down into the co-pilot’s seat.  She internally winced at the thought that the whole thing might just collapse under the combined weight of his body and all that heavy metal he was wearing.  She forced herself focus on the surveying system instead.  So far, they’d been sticking to the southern side of the planet where there were no Imperial or Republic bases to be concerned about.  The locals though, well, that was a different story altogether.  Food here was scarce, shelter even more so.  They’d have to be on their guard.

Lewis was painfully aware of the emotionless helmet that was turned in her direction, and she did her best to keep a straight face.  Ignore it and maybe it will go away.  Seemed like a good rule to live by.  But as the silence reigned save for the soft humming of the engines and the occasional notification of a possible landing site from the surveying equipment, she felt her hackles rising up.  The back of her neck _itched_ like crazy under the scrutiny, to the point where allowing her soft, brown curls to fall into her face to create a curtain between them didn’t help one iota.   Her hands flexed here and there around the edge of the console, teeth grinding behind the shield of her hair.

“What?” She finally hissed, turning sharply to glare up at the blue and red helmet that was regarding her carefully.  It was damned unnerving.  No wonder Mandalorians so rarely discarded their gear in the face of those outside of their community.  Tony Stark seemed to be the exception, but she was half expecting him to start moving around her ship naked if given leave to do so.  Darcy had put the stop that right quick.

“You don’t look like a smuggler,” Rogers finally offered, head tilting a bit to the right.  It was a simple statement, but there were so many implications in it that she scowled over at him, trying to discern his meaning.  Was it because she was a woman?  Or because her body was all soft curves and roundness?  Yeah, so maybe she liked cake, so what?  Despite her scowl, she settled on a neutral answer.

“Kinda the point, isn’t it?  Avoid getting caught while smuggling, by not looking like a smuggler?  Can’t be wise to go around with ‘smuggler’ tattooed on your forehead, or have it bedazzled into the back of your coat.  Bad for business,” she rambled, turning her scowly expression back to the dashboard in front of her.  Another site that would work for one ship, but not two.  “Not all of us can wear big, bulky armour that screams ‘mercenary’ and still get work,” she added, a subtle dig at the fact that she was talking to what amounted to a tin can with fleshy pieces inside.  Rogers seemed to consider that, but his posture relaxed, settling himself back into the co-pilot’s chair.  For a moment, Darcy was almost positive she heard him laughing through the voice emitter.

“Well, we were sent after you, and my _aliit_ and I are good at what we do,” Rogers admitted fondly.  Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded self-involved and braggy.  But the inflection he took, even through the tinny voice box, it almost seemed humble and honest.

“Ah-leet?”  Darcy questioned, her tongue wrapping awkwardly around the word.  For once, Rogers was the one squirming with discomfort.  Like most Mandalorians, their language was as guarded and protected as their culture.

“Family…” he finally supplied, to which Darcy replied with a soft ‘ah’ of understanding, and left it at that.  No need to make The Big One cranky with her.  They had been trying to shoot each other a few hours ago after all.  Funny how the threat of death for everyone involved had prompted them to work together.  Darcy did look him over though, eyebrow rising as she leaned back from the scanning equipment.  Her eyes were starting to cross, anyway.

“So tell me ‘bout ‘em?  Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems that you’re the, uh, Dad, I guess, if we’re sticking with the family analogy?”  Darcy inquired, tentatively.  Again, not wanting to push, so afraid of pushing.  Mandalorians were typically seen, not heard, unless they were shouting at you while rushing you, because they were going to murder you in the face.  It wasn’t like they sat down with their employers and chatted.  In reality, smugglers and mercenaries were pretty damn close together when it came to the workings of the galaxy.  They were the ‘gray’ area, the ones that really didn’t pick a side.  The faint mechanical laugh that came from Rogers had her grinning a bit in reply.

“Uh, no.  Well, maybe?  If you want to stick with the family analogy, sure.  _Aliit_ means family, yeah, but it’s so much more than just… the standard, nuclear family?  It’s a platoon, they follow orders, but there’s more… care there than a military brigade.  A brother comes first, regardless of the consequences,” Rogers explained, leaving Darcy somewhat dumbfounded.  It was more than she had ever known about Mandalorians, and it all took place in her cockpit with someone who’d been shooting at her six hours ago.  Darcy chewed at her lip faintly and looked into her lap where her fingers were twisting at the corner of her soft leather vest.  For whatever reason, it felt like she was invading.  It didn’t stop her mouth, though.

“So, I’m guessing the second ship we’re expecting is gonna be loaded with Mandalorians.  I mean, really, if you wanted to get us trapped and outnumbered on a snowball-wasteland to kill us, you probably could have just done that on Tython.  Dunno if you noticed, but Jane is a _terrible_ shot and while Nat is a certified bad ass, you three had way more toys than--”

“Darcy…” Rogers interrupted, leaning a bit heavier on the arm of his chair to look at her more closely.  She bit down on her lip again and looked over to him, pressing her back into her chair about as far away from him as she could manage.

“We were never sent to kill you.  If that was the case, you’d be dead already,”

“Oh, that’s comforting,” Darcy grumped, but Rogers ignored her.

“Seeing as how we were hired by the same person, to get the same information, to the same person, I very much doubt that either of our crews are going to be paid.  We were set up, and I don’t _like_ being played for a fool.  Aside from that, what happened on Tython?  There was a simultaneous performance on Korriban,” he sighed though his voice was tense.  The words sunk into Darcy, but she… didn’t know how to even _begin_ to respond to that.  Luckily, Rogers kept talking.

“Two of the ones coming are mine…”

“Why do I sense a ‘but’ here?”  Lewis looked him over warily, brow furrowed.  It was the Mandalorian’s turn to shift with discomfort.

“ _But_ there are three Dark Council members and an Imperial sniper on board, too.”

“I quit,” Darcy snapped, throwing her hands up in surrender before slumping down deeper into the seat, the surface scans forgotten.  Sith, not just any Sith, but Dark Council _Sith_ , **and** an Imperial agent?  This was shitty balls.  Thing was, she was _good_ at the smuggling thing, but she was also a known smuggler to Imperial officials.  And there may have been one or six times where she’d transported goods that had belonged in the collection of one Sith or another.

“If it’s any consolation, they were only a little bit cranky about who was going to be here,” Rogers chided, and she was sure he was smirking at her behind his helmet.  The Big One had a playful side.  Who knew?  She sighed, and boldly reached over to flick him where his nose should be behind the visor.

~ - * - ~

**Aboard the _Beskar Jag_ , Outer Rim**

Barton stared incredulously at the strawberry-blonde female.  With her helmet off, she was pretty, dainty even.  But the look in her eyes could turn a man to jelly when it was used for evil.  It really, really didn’t help that she was presently hunched over the workbench, fiddling with a part of her own wrist bracer, which was also suspiciously hooked up the small jetpack on her back.  The worst part though was how casually his partner was leaning on the bench beside her, arms folded with one hip supported by the table, clearly unfazed by the woman’s scowl.  Bucky had always been a bit of a ladies man.  Could charm the pants of a Zeltron hooker and get it for free if he tried hard enough.

The two were speaking in such low, throaty tones that Barton couldn’t make them out, even with the audio enhancements that were installed in his ears.  It didn’t help that the three Sith were beside him on the couch, chatting animatedly about the simultaneous attacks on Tython and Korriban.

“The Republic are fools to think we will not continue to assault their planets with the full force of the Empire’s fleet,” Wanda repeated for the third time in the conversation, just using different words.  The Sith were all about making things sound fancy with their open-aired threats.  Barton sighed and sank down harder into the couch, silently willing a wormhole to open up under his ass and take him somewhere nice.  The jungles of Kashyyyk were sounding really awesome right about now, especially if he had to listen to these three go over the same conversation again.

“They will do the same in response.  There is no telling what their leaders have determined or where we even stand on a counterassault.  I believe the more important question here now is how such a thing was coordinated across two separate factions, culminating in two simultaneous attacks,” Thor pointed out, and thank the stars for that.  He actually made sense.  It was one thing Barton appreciated about the head of the Dark Council.  He was a straight-shooter, and laid things out how they were, focusing the self-absorbed Council members on a singular point, rather than what they could get out of the situation.

“This is big, whatever it is,” Pietro agreed, giving his sister a helpless shrug once she glowered at him.  “What?  It is!  I feel as though we’ll work our way up a ladder.  We’ll cut off one head and two more will pop up out of nowhere,” he added with a sigh, arms folding over his broad chest.  “Besides, I’m older than you, so I know better.”

“You’re _twelve minutes_ older than I am,” Wanda huffed, petulantly.  Pietro grinned mischievously but left it at that.  The younger twin rolled her eyes and turned her sights on the Mandalorian female.  “Mandalorian,” Wanda began, and the woman, Pepper, turned just slightly to indicate she was listening.  However, she kept her back to the Sith in a stubborn show of disrespect.  That was one thing he’d learned about Mandos, they were damned stubborn, even when they were getting paid.  No wonder Bucky and Pepper were getting along, so well.  That mutual stubbornness was probably working its way to grudging respect.

“Yes?”  Pepper finally inquired, her tone charming and sweet, but damned if he didn’t hear an edge of annoyance to it.  He subtly pulled at his earlobes to adjust the pressure in them, just to make sure he was hearing right.

“These… smugglers you spoke of...” The distaste for the world ‘smuggler’ in her mouth was evident.  “How is it that your compatriots came into their company?”  Wanda inquired, digging in now.  She could force her mind into the other woman’s, but Pepper had made it quite clear that any of the Force nonsense that was sent her way would be met with the fire of a thousand suns, and she would delight in doing so.  Pepper, however, took a moment to put her bracer back on, spared a brief look at Bucky who just _barely_ shrugged, before turning in her chair to look at the assembly in what was basically the ship’s living room.

“The smugglers had information on subverting the Imperial military in order to attack at the heart of the Empire, but, they were never able to deliver it, as the attack on Tython happened shortly after their arrival…” Pepper began.  It was clear she was omitting details, and Barton’s mind was working to try and fill in the gaps.  Her countenance never changed.  Her jaw was set in a hard line, but the rest of her expression was smooth as glass.  It was her eyes that hardened the most, steeling herself against being questioned, and practically daring the sorcerer to try and dig into her brain.  Her metal fingers on her hand idly adjusted the bracer again, giving Barton a look-see at the beskar tubes she’d been working on.

“Your… _friends_ … were on Tython?”  Pietro inquired, shocked and a little displeased with the idea at all.  The Mandalorian leader had signed a treaty with the Empire to ally with them, after all.  Pepper’s expression gave nothing away save for the ratcheting in her jawline and the faintest tick of her eyebrow.

“Mandalorians go where the credits are,” Bucky offered with a faint shrug of his shoulders, as if this was no big surprise to him.  “Expecting them to not do that because of some contract signed by their leader and an organization is stupid.  If the Republic offered more credits, then the Republic is going to get the work.”

“That is an outrage!  The full might of the Empire could destroy the Mandalorian sector--”

“With all due respect,” Bucky said, cutting Wanda off in the process.  Yeah, there was no respect there whatsoever.  “The Empire has bigger fish to fry than concerning itself on where their _hired contractors_ are working when they’re not working for you.  The same could be said about the smugglers.  If the three we’re meeting up with happened to be smuggling for the Empire instead?  They’re in the same boat as… these guys,” he jerked his metal thumb in Pepper’s direction, but the pause made Barton sit up and pay closer attention. Bucky could talk circles around politicians if he wanted to on a single breath, his voice smooth and confident, so to have him search for a word was something to take note of.

“More besides, you need us right now.  Strong as you all are, the Republic decimated Korriban, and you would have been dead along with everybody else that didn’t make it off-world in time,” Pepper added, for good measure.  Damn, she was good.  Build ‘em up and then remind them that they’re only mortal.  A faint beeping from the work bench drew her attention away briefly, before she stood and made for the cockpit.  “We’re on final approach to Ilum.  Do try to keep your egos in check in the meantime.  My _riduur_ hates having to clean blood off the bulkheads…”

~ - * - ~

**Eastern Ice Shelf, Ilum**

The smugglers ship had finally found a place to set down, which would offer them the high ground as well as extra space for the second ship to land when it had arrived an hour later.  Bonus points for being away from native encampments and snarling beastie dens.  The three Mandalorians, plus one that had come off the other ship, and Natasha had taken time to scout the immediate area, and were quietly discussing a watch schedule between the four of them.  It was one of those things that Nat was good at, so it appeared like she was holding court with the three, heavily armoured men.  The best part was that they were _listening_ to her, despite her being an outsider to them.

Lewis and Foster sat beside the fire that had been built by Rhodey in their thermal gear, warming themselves near the blaze.  They couldn’t risk running out the fuel in their ship just to keep everything warm for however long they needed to stay here.  There weren’t exactly trees to burn on Ilum, but Nat planned for every eventuality and had joyfully revealed a crate in the cargo hold that was filled with long-burning flammable materials for this specific purpose.  Okay, ‘joyfully’ was a bit of a stretch.  She more or less plastered that smirk on her face that was reserved for ‘I told you so’ moments, or the ones where she was about to unleash unholy hell on whoever was pissing her off in that moment.  Just to feel better about herself, Darcy gave herself a pat on the back for putting Nat in charge of requisitions.  Yeah, totally stealing the moment, right there.

“Thought you said Rogers had two people on the other ship,” Foster mused, barely looking up from her lap where her gloved fingers were fiddling with a heat sync that Darcy had no idea where it had come from.  Oh, she could assume.  In all likelihood, it had come out of the array panel that Stark had decided to take upon himself to ‘upgrade’ during their flight.  Whatever he had done had made the array’s functionality all the better, but Foster was _pissed_ that someone was tampering with her machinery.

Darcy recalled Foster’s statement and turned to look at the figures that were moving around their pseudo-campsite.

“Well, yeah, he did.  The woman is one, obviously, but none of the others are wearing the armour,” Darcy sighed.  The right number of people had been on board, but…

“Probably one of the snipers.  Dunno much about Mandalorians, but I don’t think I’ve seen many, if any, use the Force,” Jane spoke absently.  Oh, Janey, she was so good at process of elimination.  Darcy’s arms folded over her chest as she started scouting about for the two snipers in the crowd.  Barton was huddled across the fire pit, speaking quietly to Natasha in tones that couldn’t be picked up with the freezing, whistling wind.  The other one?  Well, nowhere to be found, it seemed.  And neither was Rogers.  For a moment, anyway.  Think on them and they appear, it seemed, as the two tromped down the ramp from the bowels of her ship.  The sniper – Barnes was it? – looked deliciously rumpled, his long brown hair being smoothed back with a gloved hand and his face flushed.  The faceless helmet of The Big One follows him, but there’s a definite swagger in his gait as the two men join her and Foster by the fire.  Darcy, never really one to have a brain-to-mouth filter, grinned wickedly at them.

“You didn’t use my room, did you?  Because seriously?  I’m all for reunion canoodling, but the captain’s quarters are off limits for _your_ reunion canoodling,” Lewis said, her tone dry, but her eyes were alit with mischief.  A faint smirk was pulling at her lips.  A sharp laugh came barking out of Barnes, which actually made Foster twitch and briefly pay attention to the conversation… before returning right back to the heat sync in her lap.  Rogers?  Well, she couldn’t be sure, but by the way he squirmed briefly in all that heavy beskar made her think he was _blushing_.  The Big One blushing.  It was a beautiful thing.

“N-no, we would… what?”  Rogers hemmed and hawed, which was made even more hilarious by the tinny voice emitter. Barnes nearly doubled-over with his laughter.  Darcy just grinned wider.

“Oh, _damn_ , punk.  I _like_ her.  Why didn’t you tell me she had such a mouth on ‘er?   _Please_ tell me she gave you shit for accostin’ her?”  Barnes snickered; grinning at his partner with a similar smirk to the one Darcy was sporting.  Rogers gave a mournful sigh.

“Jerk, why do I put up with you?”  Rogers complained, but there was a note of fondness in his voice.  Darcy couldn’t help the twist of jealousy that moved in her gut.  It wasn’t of either one of them in particular.  She didn’t _know_ them.  But she knew what they had.  The fact that they were able to find what they had?  That was what she was jealous of.

“Because of that thing I can do with my hand,” Barnes replied shamelessly, lifting the metallic limb and waving it at him, shit-eating grin plastered on his face.   Darcy blushed at the mental images that filled her brain in that moment, and had to choke back a laugh at Rogers’ expense in the process.

“Yes.  Yes I did give him shit.  He was looking me over and I’m pretty sure he was about ready to go rootin’ around into the ladies to get what he wanted.  Dinner first, though, I’m not that kinda girl.  And then I knocked him on his ass,” Darcy grinned wickedly at Barnes.  The sniper laughed again freely and smacked the back of Rogers’ helmet with an open palm.  The Big One gave a weary sigh and shook his head.  She could tell by the set of his shoulders and how he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees that fun time was over.

“So, Buck has told me that the attack on Tython was pretty much a mirror image of what happened on Korriban.  There was no warning system, no countermeasures.  Ships just appeared in the atmosphere and started attacking,” Rogers began, hands folding together despite the heft of his gloves.  His thumbs tapped together in thought.  “There’s clearly a third party involved, and our first step is to figure out the line of questioning to get to the top.”

“We should go after Colonel Darok, then.  He hired us, and then sent you after us, which makes no damned sense, so we’re clearly missing some huge chunks of the puzzle, here,” Lewis said, slightly mimicking Rogers’ stance, though her joined hands lifted to prop up her head under her chin.

“Well, Darok won’t be on Tython anymore…” Barnes pointed out, to which the other two nodded.  Foster just kept silently tinkering with her heat sync.  Darcy, on the other hand, smiled and rubbed her hands together, both for warmth and in a devious gesture.

“How lucky that we have five Mandalorians in the direct vicinity!  Bounty hunting is your bread and butter, ain’t it?”

~ - * - ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riduur = Spouse, and there's your Mando'a lesson for today.
> 
> So! New picture of Sebastian Stan showed up around the web yesterday to add hype to the filming of Civil War. I dig the hobosassin look so much, I can't even stand it. So that's how I'm picturing Bucky in my little fic from here on out. Which side are you on?
> 
> All characters, locations, and everything else belongs to (ultimately) Disney.


	5. The Depths of Manaan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Selkath were disturbing to look at, Clint decided. What with the weird, oblong faces, and weird flappy mustaches made out of tentacles, and big weird eyes on the sides of their heads, and flat weird mouths on the ends of those elongated faces. They were fucking weird, okay?_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to the resources of the intrepid bounty hunters and smugglers, the crew has gotten a lead to the water-planet of Manaan. But will they find out about this elusive third party that has opened up the war between the Empire and the Republic?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW warning for the last scene. You've been warned, and shit. I also changed the rating, just in case. Sit back and enjoy, it's a long one.

**Undersea Genetics Laboratory, Manaan**

“I got! I think I got it!”  Clint shouted.  He was wrist deep in a panel beside heavily armoured blast doors that led into the inner sanctum of the lab.  The depressurization room was doing a shit job at that.  His ears were popping despite the implants, but that could have been the heavy blaster fire that was echoing about in the metal room, traded between their team and the Selkath guards and their guard droids.

Selkath were disturbing to look at, Clint decided.  What with the weird, oblong faces, and weird flappy mustaches made out of tentacles, and big weird eyes on the sides of their heads, and flat weird mouths on the ends of those elongated faces.  They were fucking weird, okay?  They gave him the heebie-jeebies, and the fact that they were _shooting_ at them was not helping.  Like, at all.  It was like they were offended that their troupe was trying to break into their lab or something!

“Any time, Barton!”  Barnes snarled from his side, his shoulder jerking with the recoil of the blaster rifle tucked into it.  He looked different, but that was no surprise.  It seemed there was a helluva lot he didn’t know about his partner, like, oh say, the fact that he was a god damn Mandalorian.  His partner had ditched the Imperial armour in favour of heavy plates of beskar, all painted in black.  The cybernetic arm was exposed, uncovered (unhindered more like) by the Mandalorian Iron.  A red mythosaur skull sat on the ball of the shoulder accented with blue and white, freshly painted in the time it had taken them to travel from Ilum to the sea-planet Manaan.

“Shut up, you old woman,” Barton muttered under his breath as he twisted a few of the wires together.  The panel that was hanging loose beside him beeped and whirred a few times, and he choked down a smug laugh… because he had gone and fucked it up worse.  A reinforced blast door locked into place over the first, making him curse, loudly, and roll his eyes.

“Well done, Barton.  Please tell me why we let _you_ play in the panel?”  The Mirialan assassin practically bled out of the darkness he hadn’t even realized was there, crouching down beside him.  He huffed in response.  Her emerald green fingers moved into the panel.  “Hold those,” Romanov commanded in a tone that brokered no argument, shoving a few wires in between his fingers.  She seemed completely at ease, despite a few blaster rounds that scorched the area around them.  He said nothing as her rough fingers worked around his own to pull wires twist them into one another.  Between the two of them, they managed to get the outer door open.

They were working on the next when a booming laugh filled the room amidst the blaster fire and the twang of lightsabers.  Thor, obviously, who was quite enjoying the rousing battle and was out in the thick of it with Wanda and Pietro nearby him.  Everyone had decided amongst themselves that they were dropping the titles from here-on-out.  The Dark Council members, of course, had put up the biggest fuss.

“Got it!”  Barton proclaimed, even if it was Natasha’s doing.  The heavy blast doors slid open with a groan of protest and the ranged fighters started backing inside, providing cover for the melee fighters to extricate themselves from the midst of battle.  Wanda let loose with a pulse from the core of her body that shot outward and knocked the majority of the fighters off their feet.  Only a few remained standing, giving them a bit more of an edge to escape into the facility.  Once inside, Thor sliced through the panel on their side of the door with the thick blade of his blood-red dual-lightsaber.  The blast door fell back into place, dulling the sounds of the blaster fire on the other side.

“Oh great, way to go, how are we supposed to get out of here now?”  Foster lamented as she reached to touch the panel as if to mourn for the broken circuitry.  Thor grasped her wrist, gently, to stop her from touching the metal that was red and heated from his blade.

“We will endeavour to escape when we come to that point of the plan.  For now, we have a sufficient wall at our back that will keep us from becoming surrounded.  And that is very hot and I would advise you not to touch it directly,” Thor said, and despite the words, his tone was soft, almost caring, rumbling deep in his chest as if he were a purring jungle cat.  The Twi’lek flushed with a soft squeak of understanding before scurrying over to where Darcy was leaning heavily on a cargo container.

Rogers was at her side, tying medical gauze tightly around her upper arm where she had been struck by blaster fire.  It was the only casualty, and it only occurred because Lewis had been a fucking idiot and pulled Rogers out of the line of fire.  At least, that was what Barnes was saying as Jane approached.  Darcy was unfazed, smirking up to the men crowded around her.

“Aw, I thought you liked me, Barnes…” Darcy cooed sweetly, batting her eyelashes up to the metal-armed Mandalorian.  He grunted in reply and she shrugged him off again.  “Besides, it’s only a flesh wound.  Not like it blew my whole… arm… off…” Darcy winced, peeking a glance up at the emotionless helmet that was tipped down towards her.  For a brief moment, Rogers had stilled his actions and Jane decided to divert her steps towards Natasha instead.  There was a shuddering in Bucky’s shoulders before he snorted and began to laugh.  Rogers seemed to relax too, and finished tying off the cloth around her arm.  Darcy was still tense, chewing at her bottom lip a bit though a small, sheepish smile was tugging at her lips.  Before she could apologize, Stark swept up, grinning like a loon with his helmet propped against his hip beneath his arm and Pepper on his heels.

“So what’s the plan, kids?”  Tony asked, loud enough to draw the attention of the others, who were soon moving to crowd around as well.

“According to the schematics Foster found, it’s a straight shot to the inner lab, and our aerial scans say that’s where the majority of the power and heat signatures are coming from,” Rhodey supplied, arms folded stiffly across his chest.

“We will likely meet with resistance on the way there, and I believe it is sufficient to say that the occupants know we are here,” Thor noted, which got him a few rumbles of agreement from the others.  Surprise attack was out, though Darcy could see Barton eyeballing the ventilation system in the smallish room they had entered.  Port holes gave them a view of the inky black ocean beyond the underwater lab, though there was occasionally a shift in them as light refracted off scales.

“No sense in splitting up then.  All right, Stark, you and Potts lead the charge ahead with Romanov, Thor, and Pietro.  Lewis, Foster, and Barton, you stick to the middle with Rhodey and Wanda.  Bucky and I’ll bring up the rear to cover your sixes.  Lewis, Foster; you focus on data mining whatever terminal we come across.  Room to room, we stick together, got it?”  Rogers inquired, giving a studious look to each of the members of their rag-tag group to ensure his instructions were clear.  There was only mild eye rolling from Pietro in response.  The man could certainly command authority when he wanted to, and nobody seemed willing to talk over him for leadership.

~ - * - ~

They moved out, clearing hallways and rooms as they passed through them with no further injuries to any member of their crew.  Just a lot of dead Selkath and droids were left in their wake.  As instructed, Jane and Darcy dove into the computer systems at each terminal that was functional, clawing through code and junk to find anything they could possibly find.  It was not until they were in one of the last rooms before the inside lab that Darcy frowned and made a humming noise of confusion.

“It… huh.  They’re working on something called the Infinite Army?  Anybody heard’a that?”  Darcy inquired, glancing over her shoulder at the rest of the team, who were standing and moving around like sentries while she and Jane were vulnerable.  Wanda appeared at her elbow to get a look at what they were seeing.

“It… well, many years ago, there was a Sith Lord called Revan, who created a device called the Infinite Engine from scavenged Rakata technology.  It is… was… a fascinating creation that could develop entire fleets of vessels in weeks, rather than months, but it could do so much more.  It could create air and food, and all manner of things needed for survival,” Wanda explained, as she moved through the data a bit with Darcy’s assistance.  “It appears that the Jedi Enclave and the Sith Temple housed fragments of this engine, and it is now being used to create this Infinite Army…” Wanda surmised, though her ridged brow was puckered with thought.  There had been scuttlebutt for years about the continued existence of the Infinite Engine, but to see it being utilized today?

“But it doesn’t look like they’re making fleets.  It looks like…” Darcy paused and frowned, glancing over her shoulder at Bucky, dragging her eyes to his arm, and then looking back to a schematic that was pulled up on the screen.  Wanda followed Darcy’s line of sight.

“They’re making cybernetic implants that are far and beyond the sort of tech we’re using in medical today, using combinations of compounds that I’ve only seen theorized about,” Foster offered, frowning a little.  She got the hint, however, and cast a look to Barnes’ arm as well.  By now, the sniper-slash-Mandalorian was looking at them, his hackles clearly raised by the three women giving him the side-eye.  He tilted his head in such a way as if to ask ‘what?’ in that huffy, short voice he used when he was irritated.  Warily, Bucky crept closer until he was looking at the screen as well, his hand briefly tensing around the barrel of his rifle.  The image on the screen is an almost exact replica of the hardware Barnes was sporting, save for a few upgrades and different internal workings, as it was adapted to a Selkath rather than to a human.  For a long time, he’s quiet.  Darcy chewed at her lips, Foster had heroically retreated, and Wanda was studying him, her gaze intent on his arm as if it was not the rudest thing she could possibly do in that instant.

“Well, shit,” Barnes finally muttered, his metal hand lifting to curl in and out of a fist as if he were looking at something new.  Darcy figured he was, in a way, but she didn’t have the whole story about his gear.  She sighed and yanked the data spike out of the terminal, stowing it within the satchel over her shoulder.  “That explains a lot, actually…”

“Sorry, man.  I ripped all the data I could, but there’s no time to go through it now.  Once we’re back on my ship, I’ll go through it more thoroughly,” Lewis promised, which earned her a stiff nod from Barnes.  He turned and moved to Rogers, likely to inform him of the new development, but all he did was bump the brow of his helmet against the other man’s, before advancing towards the next room.  He leaned up against the wall beside it, situating the rifle into his shoulder, and waited.

~ - * - ~

The crew had finally reached the main lab within the facility.  A large, open-spaced room that was lined with terminals and workbenches, as well as several operating tables.  The smell in the room was a mixture between that plasticy, sterilized smell, and the coppery odour of blood.  The source of the blood smell was likely from the Selkath carcass that was laid out on the center-most table, cut open from chaps-to-chin, with all the goopy innards exposed.  Wires and tubes hung uselessly from his body parts, and was hooked up to machinery that either was off or idle.  Metal, much like the stuff Barnes’ arm was made of, lined the ribcage and coiled around the dead man’s limbs.

The lab was abandoned.  Skirting around the body, Darcy moved to a terminal and inserted another data spike to try and pull more information.  What she skimmed over during her data-mining made her skin crawl and her stomach do weird things that ended up with a lump in her throat.  The Selkath on the table had been _voluntold_ to partake in the experiment, and when their crew had infiltrated the lab, the scientists had abandoned their work and left him to die on the table, split open like a fish.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Darcy whimpered softly, more to herself than anyone else.  A heavy, wide hand touched her back, and she glanced up to see Rogers standing beside her, steady and strong.  A silent nod was given to her, and she felt, well, it was strange.  She felt as though he was reassuring her, telling her to be strong.  All with the simple movement of his head.  She threw him a weak smile before refocusing her efforts on the terminal.  When she turned away from the console, someone had mercifully covered the body with a sheet, and she was _so_ not going to think any harder about the ruddy stains that were sopping into the white fabric.

“We should attempt to contact the rest of the Dark Council for assistance.  There is no way this can continue with the evidence we have collected,” Pietro said, looking between his twin sister and Thor, who both were nodding their heads in agreement.

“The Dark Council…” an unfamiliar voice resonated through the room, tinny through the speakers in the room.  The condescension in the three words alone was enough to make Darcy’s skin crawl.  At least Pietro and Wanda had gotten over that little quirk right quick.  She was sure Thor had a hand in that.  “A myopic institution that does nothing more than boost the egos of those who smother its gilded seats…”

“Guys, I think he just called y’all fat,” Darcy murmured, as the three Sith lords looked up to an observation window above them.  Behind the window stood Colonel Darok, a six-foot-odd trooper with heavy scarring across the left side of his face.  It just added to his level of menace amidst the heavy durasteel he was wearing.  Beside him was a red-fleshed Pureblood, with gleaming ruby eyes and shaggy hair that hung around his face.  They were both looking down at the crew in the lab, sneering as if looking upon snarling, unintelligent beasts.

“Darth Arkous!  You are a traitor and a fiend!  No more games.  Come down here and allow me to show you just how large my ego is,” Thor snarled.  Perfect.  The smaller man smiled just faintly from above them, before it was shrouded once more in that disgusted scowl.

“Ah, yes, Lord Thor.  A shame that the great leader of the Dark Council will meet with an unfortunate accident upon visiting this research facility…” Darth Arkous sighed with annoyance, but that was all he intended to say.  A slender tube was withdrawn from the depths of his robes, and with little flourish, he pressed the button.  The floor underneath them shook violently that had them bumping into each other or hanging on to whatever secure surface was nearby.  Several smaller tremors followed.

Immediately, klaxons around them began to yowl with warning, the main power going down in order to put the energy into environmental controls and keeping the lab afloat.  The room was illuminated in a dull yellow that left more dark corners than not.  Natasha was at a console immediately, forcing power into it in order to get a reading.  It wasn’t good, as she reported.  The blast had taken out the main power generators, and there was only enough power for evacuation.

“We have ten minutes,” Nat reported, her tone low, even, but her eyes betrayed the smallest amount of panic.  It was not a comfort to Darcy in this moment to know that her crewmate was capable of panicking.  And the hits just kept on coming.  Two doors slid open on either side of the room.  Through the golden emergency lights, bodies began to move, shifting out of the doorways and towards where the crew were gathered near the middle.  The soft hum of lightsabers activating added a faint red tinge to the yellow.  The shuffling bodies seemed to take that as an opening, and advanced, faster.

“Plan of attack?”  Stark shouted over the shuffling, the klaxons, and the blaster fire that had begun to fill the room.  Rogers glanced to him as he shoulder-checked the nearest Selkath.  It was horrible, really.  Like the one that had been cut open on the table, they were covered in bits of metal and wiring, in various stages of completion.

“Escape pods are down the north corridor, but we risk being boxed in from the front and back if we go that route,” Rhodey supplied as he boosted himself upwards with his jetpack, only bring himself back down, his fist slamming down hard into the squishy cranium of the nearest Selkath.

“I’m not seeing any alternatives, here!  Get boxed in or keep fighting and drown!”  Pepper replied, as she and Stark seemed to be making the executive decision to start heading to the northern corridor, cutting their way through in the process.  The rest began to follow, moving in a large circle to keep anyone from getting attacked from behind.  There were so many of them, dozens of them, and they were relentless.  They climbed over the dead and continued their pursuit, mindless but utterly focused on their task.  The crush of Selkath cyborgs was getting worse as they bottlenecked into the corridor leading to the escape pods.

Bucky grabbed Darcy by the upper arm and hauled her bodily to the left, shoving her in behind him.  Blaster fire scorched against his armour where Darcy had been standing moments before.  He then reached into his satchel to pull out a grenade that glowed blue the moment he activated it.  It was lobbed over the heads of those bringing up the rear.  The grenade exploded, freezing the cyborgs nearest from head to toe, while others became rooted to the spot.  As one, the crew pushed forward, harder, slicing and blasting their way through until they poured into the room.  The last few Selkath in the room were dealt with and the blast doors were closed.  Thor took great pleasure in swiping his lightsaber through the control panel again.  Heavy breathing could just barely be heard over the alarms.

Another tremor rumbled through the lab, before it began to tilt to the left.

“Come on!  Get to the escape pods!”  Rogers shouted, forcing everyone back into motion.  Thor had hauled Jane over his shoulder as she was already starting to lose her balance against the listing laboratory.  Darcy felt a hand clamp around her upper arm, dragging her up towards the pods.  She was muscled into Rhodey’s grasp and turned in it to latch her hands onto Rogers’ arm.

“Rogers!”  Darcy shouted, as she and Rhodey pulled.  She put her feet up on the interior wall to help brace against the weight as Rogers ensured their entire crew was in the escape pod before allowing himself to be pulled inside as well.  There was no time to strap themselves into the jump seats, as the doors slid closed.  With Natasha at the helm, they ejected from the tilting lab.

The three of them didn’t make it into a seat tumbled to the floor and into the back wall, which left squishy Darcy pinned between two heavy bodies covered in beskar.  She’d worry about the bruises later when they weren’t at risk of dying in the immediate future.  Rogers shoved Rhodey off of them, but caged Darcy beneath him, braced against the wall to keep her protected in case Rhodey came tumbling at them again.  Her dark blues looked up to him, lips parted in surprise as the adrenaline faded and all the pain from being squashed under two Mandalorians and being shot came at her.

“Ow, you’re heavy…” Darcy complained softly, but made no effort to push him away or squirm out from underneath him.  He nodded his head as one hand moved to touch her bandaged arm, clicking his tongue as it came away with some fresh blood seeping against it.  Her ears popped as they descended towards the surface, which was a relief in itself.  Lewis adjusted her jaw and sniffed to change their pressure, and sighed as the pod evened out on the surface and Rogers slowly got up.  She refused to think about him over her like that any deeper than she should.

~ - * - ~

**Aboard The Shield Maiden, Inner Rim**

_< USER: Open File 149>_

_[ACCESSED GRANTED, RESTRICTED.  
ENTER PRIMARY CLEARANCE CODE.]_

“Primary?”

_< USER: deploy access code tumbler, Protocol Lightning_Lewis.]_

**_WORKING… WORKING…_ **

_[ACCESS GRANTED.  
ENTER SECONDARY CLEARANCE CODE.]_

“Oh…”

_< USER: access main database, deploy code tumbler, Protocol Lightning_Lewis>_

_[ACCESS DENIED._   
_INVALID CLEARANCE CODE._   
_LOG IN ATTEMPT: 1._   
_**! WARNING !**_   
_LOGIN ATTEMPTS REMAINING BEFORE DATA WIPE: 2.]_

“Oh come on, you bastard…”

_< USER: access secondary database, deploy code tumbler, Protocol Lightning_Lewis>_

_[ACCESS DENIED._   
_INVALID CLEARANCE CODE._   
_LOGIN ATTEMPT: 2._   
_**! WARNING !**_   
_LOGIN ATTEMPTS REMAINING BEFORE DATA WIPE: 1.]_

“Fuck you, fuck this, fucking fuckity fuck fuck fuck…”

_< USER: access main database, deploy trojan, Protocol Shield_Maiden_Rox>_

**_WORKING… WORKING…_ **

_[ACCESS GRANTED.]_

“Fucking right it is.  I am a goddess to you, and you are my bitch!  Stupid g’damn computer…”

**_File # 149_ _  
Codename: Winter Soldier_ **

_ Attending physician: _ _Dr. Arnim Zola  
Subject: James Buchanan Barnes_

_Base analysis:_   
_ Gender: Male_   
_ Height: 1.80m_   
_ Weight: 117kg_   
_ Species: Human_   
_ Age: 25_

**_21, Month 4, 09ATC:  
_ ** _My work is finally able to proceed as planned.  My backers have come through with funding, materials, and the technological information required for me to carry on my good work in the name of The Master.  They have also brought me a suitable test subject.  A Mandalorian of excellent physique and suitable level of strength.  I am told he was retrieved from the Hoth battlefield where he was on death’s doorstep._

_I believe he will adapt to the modifications beautifully._

_Side note: I have called this project Winter Soldier, as the Mandalorian was found on the ice planet._

**_03, Month 6, 09ATC:  
_ ** _The Mandalorian refuses to cooperate.  Even with the removal of his left arm, which was damaged beyond repair while on Taris, he is combative and volatile.  While he understands Basic, he refuses to speak it, preferring to speak only in his mother tongue.  Advising my backers that the Mandalorian will need to be programmed to comply._

 **_31, Month 6, 09ATC:_ ** _  
Mister Barnes’ compliance training has begun and he has proven incredibly resistant.  I have come up with a drug cocktail of my own making, a mixture of hallucinogenic spice and sedatives.  The application of this cocktail with a variant of electroshock therapy has begun to break down the Mandalorian’s walls._

_However, he continues to speak in the Mandalorian language, and seems to repeat the same phrase over and over again.  As we do not have a translator that understands Mando’a, I have only begun to be able to decipher the words spoke.  He repeats his name, as well as ‘Steve’, amidst his litany of Mando’a._

_I have scheduled Mister Barnes to receive a compliance implant and several reprogramming sessions following that._

**_15, Month 9, 09ATC:  
_ ** _Mister Barnes was prepped for surgery after several rounds with a compliance droid. He has been responsive to command codes and I am overjoyed to report that the surgery was a success.  He is adapting well to the new implant, as well as the prosthetic, both of which were developed by myself.  There has been no break and he now speaks Basic when spoken to._

 **_33, Month 1, 10ATC:_ ** _  
I am surrounded by idiots!  One of my assistants, who is now scheduled as a future test subject, mentioned within earshot of Mister Barnes that he was a Mandalorian.  Something broke and he began shouting and reacting violently to any attempt to get near him.  I was forced to fill the room with a sedating gas and he has since been returned to the compliance droid._

_I worry that he is already breaking through the reprogramming, but my benefactors insist that his brainwashing will be completely solidified if we continue with the combination of cocktails and electroshock._

_From here on out, Mister Barnes will be referred to by the project’s name, as he has even begun to have episodes when hearing his name._

**_22, Month 9, 10ATC  
_ ** _The Winter Soldier has become an asset to The Master.  He has been deployed on both sides of the political conflict between the Empire and the Republic.  I am pleased to report that he was instrumental in the abolition of the Treaty of Coruscant.  I have never been more proud of my creation._

 **_29, Month 9, 10ATC_ ** _  
My benefactors have asked to be given the reins of the Winter Soldier project.  I say asked, but I know a veiled threat when I receive one.  They wish to put him into active use in the Imperial ranks.  I have not advised against this, as I know the coding will breakdown if the asset is not recalibrated after every mission._

_I hope those Revanite bastards get what is coming to them._

~ - * - ~

Darcy shuddered as she finished reading the document.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the whole thing was referring to Bucky.  The schematics for his arm were all there, as well as an image.  He looked a bit smaller in the picture attached to the file of when he was first brought in.  He was also clean cut with a smooth face.  He looked like the dead, though.  Not surprising given that he was near death.  Thankfully, the image didn’t show what was left of his arm before it was removed completely.

The mention of Revanites though… that gave her pause.  As far as she knew, the sect of Revan’s followers was pretty well secluded on Dromund Kaas, and preferred to be living in the shadows.  They weren’t exactly non-combative, but they didn’t go out seeking fights, on either side of the fence.  They were more like historians than anything else.

With a sigh, she transferred the intel to a datapad and stood, tucking it beneath her arm.  Bucky didn’t seem to remember everything, judging by the surprised response he’d had upon seeing the schematics in the lab.  It wasn’t a full, in-depth analysis of what had occurred, but it was something.  Maybe it would prompt some memories?  Whether that was a good thing or not was up for debate.  Either way, Lewis set out to find the Mandalorian in question, wandering through her ship.  She caught the low rumble of one of their voices in the cargo hold and headed in that direction.  Sure, Nat’s voice was husky, but not that baritone, and she’d already passed Thor and Jane speaking quietly amongst themselves in the lounge.

Darcy moved into the cargo hold, only to stop dead and _stare_.  And who could blame her?  As it turned out, Steve Rogers was not an ugly fuck under all that armour.  His broad body was all hard-packed muscle with flawless, pale skin.  His blonde hair was slicked back from the sweat beading on his brow.  His eyes were closed and his bottom lip was bitten red, surrounded by a thick bushel of whiskers that were several shades darker than his hair.  His broad hands were flat against the top of a cargo container, framed by Bucky’s, who was pressed up against his back, facing the door she was standing in.  While the other man was not nearly as flawless, he was just as broad and muscular, and she got a full-on show of the way the muscles were moving under his skin as he thrust deep against Rogers’ ass.

“ _Gar di'kut.  Mirdir gar cuyir kotir, huh?  Ni ru'kir kyr'amur gar par ibac..._ ” Bucky growled against Steve’s shoulder before biting down on it hard enough to leave a mark.  Rogers groaned loudly, hands clenching tighter around the crate.  Bucky’s metal fingers dug hard into Steve’s hip as his other hand moved around the taller man’s front to grasp his hard cock.  He began to pump in rhythm with the motions of his hips, teeth grinding down on the flesh he had pinned between them.

Bucky’s blue eyes opened and caught sight of Darcy watching them with a gaped expression.   A salacious grin drew across his lips around Steve’s pinched flesh, eyes twinkling with mischief.  He swivelled his hips in such a way as to prompt Steve to groan louder than he probably intended.  Releasing Steve’s flesh, he licked his lips for Darcy’s benefit and mouthed ‘hey’ at her.  Darcy felt more heat flood into her cheeks, but it finally got her moving.  She lightly lifted the datapad to indicate it to him, before setting it down just inside the room on the floor.  When she stood up to leave, Rogers was looking at her too, and she felt trapped again.  While the larger man was blushing, there was an equally wicked smile on his mouth.

“Oh, stars…” Lewis groaned, forcing a hand over her eyes and backing out of the room.  The door had barely slid shut before the moaning renewed, louder, faster, until there were joined shouts of ecstasy. She moved back to her room and pressed her back against the door once it closed.  Her thighs pressed together and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

“Fuck…”

~ - * - ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in my head, I've sort of pictured Darth Arkous as Ivan Vanko/Whiplash what with the Sith version's penchant for electricity, and Colonel Darok as Brock Rumlow/Crossbones, simply because Crossbone's new look in the leaked shots of Captain America: Civil War remind me of trooper armour and they have similar facial scarring. On top of that, you can totally consider the Revanites as Hydra. Yeah, I'm all over the place. No apologies!
> 
> The forehead-bump that Bucky gives Steve is called a Keldabe Kiss (or _kov'nyn_ in Mando'a). It's a head-butt, more or less. It can be gentle, like how one might give their partner a peck on the cheek in passing (as is the case above), or a full-blown, bust-your-face-open head strike. Leave it to the Mandalorians to have a name for something that can be tender or violent, depending on the target.
> 
>  _"Gar di'kut. Mirdir gar cuyir kotir, huh? Ni ru'kir kyr'amur gar par ibac."_ basically translates to "You idiot. Think you're brave, huh? I should end you for that." Because I couldn't write a fanfic without Bucky getting pissed at Steve's heroics.
> 
> All the things belong to Disney.


	6. In The Wrong Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _His tone was hard, clipped, and so unlike the smooth way he had spoken to her before, even when he was calling her a damned fool for pulling Rogers out of the line of fire. There was no trace of the Bucky she had begun to know there. It was just the warrior that lived inside standing ahead of the caring charmer and the possessive lover. A disturbing prospect._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up a few hours after the last. It also fought me tooth and nail because it's a little shithead, so I decided to cut the last scene I had intended to write for it and just post it, before I got too frustrated and decided to flying dropkick my computer out the window.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Aboard The Shield Maiden, Outer Rim**

“What do you know about the Revanites, Thor?”  Lewis asked as she flopped rather unceremoniously down into the lounge with the Sith Lord in question and Jane.  The two had been speaking quietly amongst themselves since she’d passed them originally on her quest to find Bucky Barnes, and hadn’t moved since.  They hadn’t even noticed her when she’d disappeared into her quarters for five minutes to deal with the coil of heat that had snaked its way through her body at seeing the two Mandalorian men in such a compromising position.  Also?  Hoooooly shit did they look good together without all that Mandalorian Iron in the way.

“I fear Wanda would know better than I, but I may be able to enlighten you to some degree.  I must start at the beginning however, so please, get comfortable,” Thor said, gently twisting his body to regard the two women directly as opposed to just Jane.  Well.  That was interesting.  At least _somebody_ other than the Mandalorians was getting some attention.  Darcy did as instructed by leaning back and propping her feet up in Jane’s lap.  The Twi’lek’s fingers settled on her ankles and drummed here and there to keep the rest of her from fidgeting.

“As she indicated earlier, Revan was in possession of the Infinite Engine, which was previously part of something called a Star Forge.  The Rakatans developed it to create their massive fleets in a bid to conquer the galaxy.  They used all manner of slaves to help build The Forge, but they had no idea what they were feeding into it.  You see, The Engine utilizes the Force to power itself, and the negative build-up of using slaves, and the general negativity inherent in the Rakatan people, caused it to twist into something aside from its purpose,” Thor began, his tone level, calm.

“I thought Wanda said Revan created the Infinite Engine?”  Foster inquired.

“In a way, he did, I suppose.  The Engine was within the Forge, its true purpose lost,” Thor suggested, giving a shrug of his broad shoulders.  Jane seemed content with that answer and nodded for him to continue.

“The Forge, fueled now by the dark side, began to corrupt its users and ultimately caused the collapse of their empire, and the near-extinction of their race.  The Forge lay formant for some-twenty-thousand years before it was happened upon by the Sith Lord Revan and his apprentice, Malak, three-hundred years prior to now.  He made promises to the remaining Rakata Elders that he would see The Forge destroyed, but that was not to be…” Thor sighed, inwardly.

“So, let me guess: Revan and Malak decided to play around with The Forge…” Jane asserted, to which Thor gave a solemn nod, though there was a twinkle of something Darcy couldn’t identify in his eyes.

“Indeed.  They sensed The Forge’s darkness and were thus corrupted into creating their own fleet in order to tip the scales of war against the Republic,” Thor paused, his jaw setting in such a way as to bolster himself for what came next.  “Such as is the way of the Sith, Revan’s apprentice turned on him once Revan’s power grew too great and he coveted it for himself.  He had the perfect opening when a Jedi battlemaster and her crew boarded Revan’s flagship in order to force Revan to answer for his crimes,” Thor frowned now, as if trying to recall details that evaded him.

“I do not recall how it all occurred, but somehow the battlemaster – _Shan, was her name_ – and Revan became Force-bonded.  Revan had nearly perished with his apprentice’s betrayal.  Shan brought Revan back to the Jedi Enclave and they worked to erase his mind, and build him up as a different entity.  He believed himself to be a Republic soldier with no abilities in the Force whatsoever…”  Thor explained.  Darcy felt her body grow cold, and Thor must have sensed something amiss because he looked to her and raised a quizzical eyebrow.  She waved him off.  No, she wouldn’t dish on Bucky’s history.  It wasn’t her place to do so.  But the parallels of his near-death and brainwashing, as well as the Revanite connection?   She was beginning to believe that coincidences were a bunch of hokum.  Thor hummed faintly in thought before continuing on.

“Ultimately, Revan began to recall who he was, and he also recalled all of his misdeeds as a Sith Lord.  With Shan’s assistance, he worked towards the Light side, but the darkness was there inside of his heart.  He was able to access both Light and Dark sides of the Force, utilizing abilities without being so dearly effected by one side or the other.  That is the basis of these Revanites.  They find the ability to do so fascinating, as it had not been done before and has not been done since.  That is, what we believe to be the truth.  The Revanites are notoriously shadowy and most of what I have just revealed is considered conjecture in the eyes of most…” Thor finished, looking to the two women expectantly.

Jane was drumming her fingers on top of Darcy’s calf thoughtfully, while the latter was chewing at the inside of her cheek.  It was strange to her to have a Sith Lord, _the_ leader of the Dark Council, speak so frankly and honestly about the tale of Revan.  There was no judgement of the man for seeing the Light side of the Force, or labouring against the Empire in his later years.  It was all simply matter-of-fact.

“I must ask, Captain Lewis, what prompted the query?”  Thor finally inquired when nobody said anything.  Darcy squirmed with discomfort.  There had been a lot of information to sift through.  Part of her felt guilty about just laying the bombshell of his time in captivity on Bucky and Steve without softening the blow, but… well… they were busy.  She blushed and shook away the thought of them moving together as they had.  Stars…

“Uh, please, man, it’s just Darcy.  Well, the thing with what Wanda said, and I did some more digging.  I found a, uh, particular file, and it mentioned the Revanites by name, so…” Darcy shrugged faintly, twisting the ends of her shirt in her fingers.  Thor nodded his head thoughtfully, though his gaze was distant.

“Perhaps we should investigate where they make their home…” Thor suggested, glancing pointedly to the door.  Darcy’s gaze followed, expecting a pair of Mandalorians to loom there, but saw nothing but the corridor.  She gave a weary sigh and stood up, totally not fixing her hair and adjusting her clothes in an attempt to stall before speaking to them.  It had only been about three hours since she walked in on them _canoodling_ in her cargo hold.  Naked, naked canoodling.  All that naked  man-muscle and taut flesh and there was something about that metal arm that just _did it_ for her.

“Ngh…” Darcy groaned, running her fingers harder through her hair.  It helped to focus herself on the task at hand rather than her perfect recall of everything she had seen a few hours ago.  Derisively, she stomped away from Thor and Jane, who peered after her oddly.

It only took half a minute to arrive back at the cargo hold, and she chewed hard at her bottom lip as she loomed just outside of the door to prevent it from opening automatically for her.  For a long few moments, she stared at the door as if it would bite her.  It was an obvious choice to knock first or alert them to her presence, since, fuck, she wasn’t sure she had the wherewithal to not ask to play, too.  Reaching down inside of herself to find her ovaries, Darcy leaned forward enough to kick the door with her boot a few times.

“All right, boys: team meeting.  Put some pants on,” she said loud enough to be heard through the metal in her best approximation of Captain Voice.  With Jane and Nat, she hadn’t ever had to use it.  She was Captain, really, because it was her ship, her credits, and her connections that had started them out.  The three women frankly worked seamlessly, falling into roles that best suited their individual talents.  Darcy was an awesome pilot with a sort of sixth sense when it came to moving her baby around the galaxy.  Jane had a knack for fixing what was broken or tinkering with what wasn’t to make it preform even better.  And Nat?  Well, there were few things she wasn’t great at.  She had her own connections, and having a Force-user on their side was always a great card to keep up their collective sleeve.

Behind the door, Darcy could hear a bit of shuffling, voices pitched too low for her to hear, before the door slid open.  There were two scenarios she had expected to be faced with: Steve completely dressed in his armour and Bucky in some state of sort-of dressed in his own, or two men with just pants on.  Both were pleasant ideas, but she was only half-right.  Rogers was half-dressed in his armour, his broad chest exposed, openly displaying the skully tattoo on his left shoulder that mirrored the one on Bucky’s metal arm.  Barnes, on the other hand, was completely enshrouded in his armour, the datapad she’d left behind in his hand.  And he was pacing like a caged animal, prowling back and forth along the far wall.

“Lewis,” Steve finally greeted, drawing her attention back to him with the quiet syllables.  There was faint pinkish hue to his cheeks and the tips of his ears, but it was clear he was trying to downplay what she’d walked into last night.  Despite the blush though, there was a tension around his eyes and in the line of his jaw.  Darcy chewed her bottom lip to try and follow his example, but all she could see was all those muscles across his abdomen and her mind recalled what he looked like naked and hard.

“Rogers.  Uh, yeah, hey, so…” Darcy stammered, rubbing the back of her neck a bit to hopefully disguise the heat that was rising in her cheeks.  Bucky appeared behind Steve’s shoulder, staring at her.  At least, she assumed he was.  His head was covered in his helmet, so it was just a guess.  “Barnes,” she added, waving her fingers faintly.

“This file you gave us.  Was that what was in the Manaan database?”  Barnes asked without preamble.  His tone was hard, clipped, and so unlike the smooth way he had spoken to her before, even when he was calling her a damned fool for pulling Rogers out of the line of fire.  There was no trace of the Bucky she had begun to know there.  It was just the warrior that lived inside standing ahead of the smirking charmer and the possessive lover.  A disturbing prospect.

“Yeah.  That’s what I came to talk to you guys about.  Thor thought we should check out where the group that was behind, uh… _that_ ,” she waved faintly at Barnes’ left side.  “… hangs out.  See if we can’t get some more answers, yeah?”  Darcy hedged, glancing between the two Mandalorians once more.  In the face of Barnes being off-kilter, she began to wring her hands together in front of her, rather than tugging at her shirt as she had earlier.

Rogers turned his head to the side to glance at Bucky, eyebrow rising.  A few words were spoken, in rapid-fire Mando’a of course, between the pair of them.  Darcy, on the other hand, stood there awkwardly, arms moving to fold over her chest.  While she did not understand the words, the tone and pacing gave her an idea.  If she was right, Steve was asking his partner how he wanted to proceed in light of this information.  The words had a lovely, growling, but clipped cadence to them. The words seemed almost rhythmic as they were spoken between the two; something you could lean back and listen to like the beating of a heart. Bucky nodded briskly to Rogers, who in turn looked back to Darcy with a faint smirk.

“When do we start?”

~ - * - ~

**South of Kaas City, Dromund Kaas**

“I think I might like to have a vacation home here,” Stark stated, though his tone was completely dry and devoid of emotion.  And that was no surprise.

“Hilarious,” Rogers grunted in reply.  The entire team was miserable.  Kaas was humid and it seemed to always rain to some varying degree.  Lightning rarely stopped arcing across the sky, snaking through the dark, oppressive clouds that only hinted at the sun here and there.  Yet, despite the lack of Vitamin D, the planet was thriving… well, as much as a swampy marsh could thrive.

Thick-trunked, spindly-branched trees sought out those little gaps in the clouds, but were weighed down by the thick moss that hung from every conceivable branch.  The ground was uneven, and beyond the beaten paths, dangerous as hell.  Sinkholes on the grassy land that seemed firm were not the least bit surprising when they opened up beneath the weight of a giant lizard that was looking at their team like they were breakfast.

On top of the humidity and general _ick_ of the place, those with a bit of Force sensitivity were especially on edge.  Darcy didn’t know too much about the history of this planet – as it was one in millions – but the way their hackles were raised up, it couldn’t be anything good.  She was sure it only had a little bit to do with the ever-oppressive electricity in the air.

The worst part?  They were hoofin’ it.  The paths were too narrow to take a couple of speeders down, and the ground itself was too unpredictably soft to land either one of the ships anywhere but the spaceport.  The last thing they needed was for one of the ships to take a dirt-nap.  Finally, _finally_ , the path under their boots began to widen as they moved between a pair of cliffs, allowing their dual-file line to spread out somewhat.

There had been very little information about the Revanites on official channels.   Unofficially, they’d discovered that the cultish camp was located several kilometres south of Kaas City, the only sustainable metropolis on the planet.  _Unofficially_ , it had taken Bucky breaking an Imperial’s arm in three places, and a combination of Nat and Wanda’s Force influence to get the guy to talk.  The fear of reprisals had ensured the agent wouldn’t rat out their ragtag group, but it was only going to last so long.  Eventually, he’d crack under the scrutiny placed on him for his ‘unfortunate accident’, and the Empire would be on their backs in no time after that.

“Oh, thank the Stars…” Foster groaned as they turned a shallow corner on the footpath to discover a clearing.  Rickety-looking barriers stood at several paces on the way into the camp, but they looked to be in various stages of disuse.  Beyond that were a few tents and awnings, but they were in the same sort of disrepair as the barriers had been.  It looked like the camp hadn’t been used in weeks, maybe longer.  It was hard to tell with all the damned rain.

The Mandalorians took point, spreading out to the outskirts of the camp to act as sentries in case anybody, or anything, came too close.  Wanda, Thor, and Pietro moved around the interior of the camp, seeming to focus on vacant spots here and there, as if they were seeing something that nobody else could.  It was entirely possible, given the meaningful looks they shared with one another that conveyed much in their own silent language.

It left Nat, Jane, and Darcy to go over whatever was physically left behind during the camp’s evacuation.  It had been done hastily.  Bits of weatherworn tech were still left beneath the tattered awnings, and Foster took it upon herself to collect all that in her satchel.  Natasha seemed to be scanning the ground, though she’d stopped near a fire pit that looked washed out.  No surprise given the weather.  She crouched beside it and reached out to push her gloved fingers into the embers, past the top layer of cold ash.

“It’s still warm,” she reported, glancing up to Darcy with a raised eyebrow.  Darcy nodded and glanced around casually, hands resting on her hips.  A chill crawled down her spine at the implications of that particular bit of information.  Nat stood and brushed her hand off on her slacks before tossing a faint smirk at Darcy before she faded from sight.

“I hate it when you do that, Nat,” Darcy muttered before drifting away from the suspiciously warm fire pit to the tents.  The end of Darcy’s heavy braid flick up through no fault of their own or the gusty wind, and she just rolls her eyes and sighs into the area around her.  A soft whisper of movement to her left made her glance in that direction, and she was almost positive she could make-out Natasha’s silhouette as the assassin moved about.

Darcy drifted into one of the larger tents, idly toeing through the blankets on the ground.  They didn’t look as wrecked as the rest of the camp, and when Darcy looked up, she could see the tent had been patched and stitched back together in places, and that the ground beneath her boots was relatively dry.  A small workstation sat at the back of the tent, equally dry, and hooked up to a small power source.  She moved towards it and brushed her bare hands across it.  Warm, just like Nat had said the fire was.  It was recently used, but it looked to only be in a hibernation state as opposed to completely shut down.  Her hand shifted into her satchel to draw out a dataspike.

Briefly, her fingers moved around the edges of the computer chip, while she considered the box she’d be opening.  Barnes was… not great.  He was pissed off and twitchy, and had barely said more than a handful of words to anyone except Rogers, and it was almost exclusively in Mando’a.  Darcy considered the probabilities at that point.  If they found more information, would it help to give him closure, or just set him off like a loose cannon?  Would the revenge he was seeking actually help alleviate the troubles in his mind now, or just give him a temporary outlet to focus his rage on?

With a sigh, Darcy pushed the dataspike into the terminal and woke the system up with a few compressions on the keys.  Her dataspike began to hum as it worked through the firewalls that had been set-up.  They were… not so great, to be honest, and she wasn’t sure if that could be blamed on the Revanites’ technical inability, or their lack of concern that they’d be found out while out in the middle of a damp, dangerous jungle.  The dataspike made quick work of the few, weak layers of security, opening up the console’s secrets to her.

“What the hell?”  She muttered under her breath.  The console was empty, devoid of any information other than its base operating system and programming.  Not even data-mining into the console turned anything up.  It was wiped clean.  Frowning, she kicked the console with her boot and had a few choices words for the hunk of junk.

“You will not find any information in there,” a soft voice said from her left.  Instinct overrode the calm, Imperial accent that filtered into her head, and she drew her blaster to point in the direction of the unfamiliar voice.  The blaster, however, went flying out of her hand the moment it was aimed and fell harmlessly to the ground at the feet of a tall, lean-figured man covered from head to toe in a dull, grey robe.  Darcy backed up a few steps, fingers twitching to reach for her other blaster but unwilling to see it on the ground next to the other.

“You came seeking the Revanites.  As you can see, they are not here,” the male continued, inching forward a step and another to the right, putting himself between the tent’s mouth and Darcy.  She forced the panic that gripped her chest down and out.  Nat was close by, wasn’t she?  Her blue gaze flicked about the tent anxiously, trying to find the shimmer around Natasha’s form, but coming up empty.  Maybe she was already in position?

“And?”  She inquired, trying to bolster the courage that had gone cold inside of her.  “Seems to me you might know somethin’ about that, hm?”  Darcy inquired, forcing the words out of her mouth so they didn’t freeze on her tongue.  The cloak shifted slightly, revealing red fingers curled around the hilt of a simplistic lightsaber.  Shit.  Darcy glanced around again, wondering if she screamed for help, if anybody was close enough to get to her in time.

“I do not, but my companion does,” the man continued, tilting his head in such a way as to look her over, contemplating how much to reveal.  “Would you care to speak to him?”

“My friends…” Darcy managed, gesturing lightly beyond the tent to the rainy murk outside.  The man spared a brief glance over his shoulder, though likely couldn’t see anything anyway because of how his hood sat on his shoulders.

“Ah yes, your friends.  Indeed, they may come along as well.  I do not sense malcontent from any--” he trailed off for a moment.  “Hm, _most_ of your friends are peaceful enough at the moment, but there are two that do not appear to be so complacent.”  Darcy chewed her bottom lip faintly.  The guy knew stuff, that much was apparent, but how much was she willing to reveal?  She thought about Bucky, about his obvious desperation for revenge on the people who fucked around with his body and his mind for so long.  She tried to put herself in his shoes.  How far would she go to get what she wanted?

“Yeah, that’s… that’s Bucky and Steve.  Bucky was a Revanite science experiment, and Steve, well, they’re _together_ so he’s pissed off by-proxy,” Darcy explained, carefully, not wanting to give away too much information, just in case.  The figure seemed to consider this new information before reaching a hand up to push the hood back.  A bald Pureblood stood before her, his face utterly smooth of the ridges typical for his kind, though scars covered his face, almost ritualistic in their origin.  What really stood out were the ice-blue eyes against all that crimson-coloured skin.

“Gather your companions, child, and I will take  you to where you need to be.”

~ - * - ~

“You!”  Pietro’s voice snarled across the small cave they had entered that was north of the Revanite camp.  It had been a bit of a hike up the cliff’s incline to the cave, trailing along behind the robed figure, he’d introduced himself as Vision, that Darcy had discovered, but here they were.

Ahead of them stood a short, sturdy man with brown, salt-and-peppering hair, leaning against a similar console to the one Darcy had found in the tent, with a similar generator.  The man in question wore a similar robe, though the hood was down and more open, revealing plates of armour as opposed to the soft tunic Vision wore.  He turned around, dark eyes studying the assembly thoughtfully.  He held his hands up in a placating motion, studying Pietro as he advanced.

“Me,” he confirmed, calmly, which caused Darcy to cover a snorting laugh under her palm.

“You know him?”  Rogers inquired, looking over Darcy’s head at Pietro.  The silver-headed Sith nodded, scowling more at Vision, who moved to stand next to the other.

“The Gray Jedi that the Dark Council has been pursuing.  They have worked to delay or destroy the political and social movements of the Council for years…” Pietro explained, anger rising in his voice.  As he took a step forward, it was Thor who put a hand on his chest and sternly shook his head, like a father scolding a son.

“We have larger concerns than such things now, Pietro.  Put it behind you or leave,” Thor stated, his tone low and dangerous.  It was Pietro’s choice to act, but Thor would be responsible for what occurred thereafter.  It was not an idle threat.  Pietro seemed to consider this before his stance relaxed and he looked to his sister in the crowd.  They shared some sort of silent communication that ended with a tip of Wanda’s head and Pietro shrugging, so Darcy guessed that was a good sign?  Maybe?

“Are we good here?”  The smaller of the two Gray Jedi inquired, his hands rubbing together in nervous gesture.  A few murmurs of ascent came from the crew, who slowly spread out around the cave rather than clustering together at the mouth of it.

“Good.  I understand you’re here about the Revanites.  They picked up and left about three weeks ago.  Honestly, we thought it would be Imperial agents that came to investigate not…” he waved his hand idly at the group of them.  “Well, either way, better than the Imperials…”

“Where did they go?”  Bucky snapped impatiently, which caused Rogers to shoot him a look that lost its effect with their helmets in the way.  Darcy found herself standing between them, but her hand moved to lightly tug on Bucky’s elbow, a silent request that he relax for a hot minute.  His arm twitched under her grasp, the metal plates shifting carefully to acknowledge that he’d understood.  To his credit, the Gray Jedi just shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s difficult to say.  They left one day in a hurry without warning and haven’t returned; not even a single scout to pick up what was left behind.  We’ve managed to pull together all of the data in the camp, but it’s full of holes,” he explained, gesturing to the console behind him.  Bucky relaxed a bit further beside her, his head tilting to look down enough.  While she couldn’t see his face, Darcy knew instinctually that his expression was pleading for her to get answers from the tech where physical answers didn’t exist.  She gave his arm another squeeze before heading for the two Gray Jedi, a hand reaching out in greeting.

“I’m Darcy,” she stated confidently.  The Jedi seemed to hesitate before reaching out and taking her forearm in his hand.  She reciprocated and squeezed lightly.

“Bruce.  Let’s see what we can find out for you guys, huh?”  He said as he released her arm and turned to the console.  The pair of them began to work through what information was there, and where holes had been placed deliberately, as though the particular files had been extracted completely with no trace or backup in the system.  Any attempt to trace the information along the holonet was met with another void where the information _should_ have been.  There was no trail to follow.  Whoever had the information now was so far off the grid that they’d have to have a direct connection to actually find the intel they were looking for.  After about ten minutes of working through what they _did_ had, Darcy was scowling at the console as if it had insulted her.

“Now that that useless bit is over, let’s start on what _you_ know,” she finally stated, looking to Bruce to gauge his reaction.  There was the smallest twitch of his brow, but if she hadn’t been watching for it, she would have missed it.  His hands curled against the edge of the console before he pushed himself up to look at her.  Bruce regarded her for a moment, gaze flicking beyond her to where Bucky and Steve were hovering, pretending not to be within earshot.

Bruce sighed and scrubbed a calloused hand against the back of his neck, while studying Darcy closely.  She couldn’t blame him.  For the most part, she looked completely unassuming – rough around the edges, an obvious smuggler.  It was an exterior that she used to her advantage when leveraging contracts.  She talked circles around her employers, flirting and pretending to be less than what she was, in order to get precisely what she wanted.  It worked really well when playing poker, too.

“How did you figure me out?”  Bruce asked quietly, once more glancing to the two Mandalorians than loomed nearby.  Darcy gave him a shrug.

“You worked your way around the tech without any evidence of tampering from what I saw,” she explained, arms folded over her chest.  The skin on the back of her neck prickled as Barnes and Rogers drew a little bit closer to her back.  She could only tell they had because the whirring of Bucky’s metal arm got closer and Bruce looked further up behind her than he had before.  Sighing, resigned, Bruce waved a hand dismissively at the console.

“Vision and I were working with the Revanites to undermine the Empire’s activities at The Wall.  They had hundreds of slaves working out there at all hours of the day and night to construct that ugly statue to some dead Darth.  It was a relationship of convenience for us.  They gave us numbers to distract the Imperials while we went in to liberate the slaves themselves,” Bruce anxiously picked at his palm, regarding the three before him now and ignoring how the attention of the others had moved his way now, too.

“Well, we got them out, suffice to say… right into the hands of another Master.  They were given a choice once we brought them here.  Join the cult or die,” Bruce explained, grimacing.

“How did you manage to avoid _that_ , exactly?”  Stark asked from behind Bruce.  Cringing, the Gray Jedi twisted to lean back against the console, arms folded over his chest protectively.

“It was not something we accomplished without consequence.  When we came upon the Revanites, they were more… scholarly than fanatical.  It was not a ‘join or die’ principle at that point.  We either joined or were sent on our way with no further assistance or access beyond their camp,” Vision supplied.  “We consented to a joining ritual when we first came upon them, and proved ourselves to be dedicated to Revan’s pursuits.  The man was a paradox during his life, and, initially, their views aligned with our own.  There were no constrictions of the Jedi or Sith Codes to hamper our efforts.  It was the Force, and only the Force.”

 “Yeah, seems like that isn’t the case anymore,” Rhodey muttered, though it was loud enough to be heard by all of them.  Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“That’s right.  Somewhere along the line between our joining and liberating the slaves, something changed.  We haven’t been able to figure it out because the pieces just don’t add up.  All we know is that the day we brought back the slaves was the day it all went to hell.  Most of the slaves joined, but there were a few that wanted full freedom or nothing, so…” Bruce trailed off with another heavy sigh.  His shoulders curled inward, hunching into himself.

“They left you behind, though…” Pepper spoke from Darcy’s right.  She’d barely noticed the willowy female move there at all.

“We stayed behind with the promise of sending more people their way to Manaan.  We haven’t, for obvious reasons, but I imagine they know we’re not in it for whatever they’re in it for,” Bruce muttered, grimacing again.  The guilt on his shoulders was heavy.

“They were experimenting on Selkath on Manaan.  Super advanced cybernetics like Barnes’ arm, there,” Stark said, flicking a few fingers in Bucky’s direction.  The arm in question whirred and tensed near Darcy’s side, and she instinctively moved to settle her fingers on his elbow again.

“Selkath, but not others?”  Vision inquired, his brow furrowing just faintly.  If Darcy wasn’t looking straight at him, she would have missed it.

“Not that we saw.  The place was sorta… _blowing up_ while we were leaving, so…”  Lewis offered with a sardonic grin.

“Technically, it was blowing up _and_ sinking,” Stark appended, a soft chuckle following that was echoed by a few others.  Darcy felt the tension in Bucky’s arm loosen just slightly, his head shaking.  Rogers looked a bit loose-limbed too, so score one for her and Stark!

“So where do we go next?  This was our only lead,” Rogers finally said, bringing everybody back on task.  A few of their group exchanged glances, and Bruce shifted uncomfortably.

“I know there were a few places that the ones higher on the hierarchy were headed.  It was in the system before they started ripping chunks of data off-planet.  Rakata Prime and Rishi,” he offered, cautiously, glancing at the faces around him.  Wanda scowled slightly and it was an expression mirrored on her twin’s face.

“Divide and conquer?”  Natasha inquired, a wicked smirk crawling over her lips.  Darcy jabbed a finger in her direction.

“Oh no.  We are _not_ going to Rishi unless it’s absolutely necessary.  You _know_ the Nova Blades want your green hide as much as they want mine and Janey’s,” she grumped, still waving her finger at the smirking assassin, who was still smiling but held up her hands in surrender.  Rogers looked down to her expectantly, holding her gaze despite the helmet, until she squirmed.

“Ugh!  We may or may not have ripped off a shipment of spice and blasters from The Blades two years ago.  Maybe.  It was an honest mistake!” Darcy said, mimicking Natasha’s gesture of surrender.  To his credit, Rogers just sighed.

“Fine.  All right.  Me an’ Buck will go with you ladies,” Rogers indicated.

“Count me in.  That idiot needs more than you at his back, Rogers,” Barton insisted, bobbing his head in the direction of Bucky who just grunted in reply.

“I will also go with you to Rakata Prime.  It is a place heavily tainted by the Force, and it would be wise to have more than one user with you,” Thor agreed, before catching Natasha’s eyes.  “No slight to you, Natasha,” he added for good measure.  The assassin eyed him warily but gave a stiff nod.

“Guess we’re headed to Rishi then, kids.  Come on, let’s go, move it, hup-two,” Stark ordered, crowding behind Pepper to get her moving first and leaving the others to trail along behind him.

“C’mon, _mesh’la_.  Stark’s gonna pretend it’s a race to get to target before the other.  Let’s beat him, huh?”  Bucky murmured as he leaned down, his metal hand pressing against Darcy’s back.

~ - * - ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's Mando'a lesson!  
> " _Mesh'la_ " translates to "beautiful". Yeah, Bucky's a total charmer. It was the closest 1940ish pet name I could come up with in Mando'a. "Doll" and "firecracker" don't really translate well, and "baby" is a literal translation, not something affectionate. There are other Mando'a terms of endearment, but they're meant for a partner, not something said in flirtatious passing.
> 
> So, a bit of a background on Gray Jedi. They're Jedi or Sith that straddle the line between the Light and Dark Sides, without falling Dark. They're also sometimes, as is the case with Vision and Bruce, Jedi that can no longer blindly follow the Jedi Code, which promotes peace of mind, self-control, and discipline, over everything.
> 
> Check me out on [Tumblr](http://meshla-aphrodisia.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
